In favour of an idiot abroad
I am a socialized being. Quite apart from being social, or even sociable. My mother and father took the time to teach me, early on, that saying what I thought about a particular situation might be my right. But, with right comes great responsibility. Ergo (that’s Latin, not a name for a salad ingredient), I should abstain from saying everything that crosses the threshold of my brain. In particular, the world at large doesn’t need to know what I think about a particular situation, in every situation. Do you see where I’m going with this?
I’ll continue. I don’t travel far from home, so my education (about distant places) comes from media. Travel documentaries, books, movies. Take your pick. And although I may be quite opinionated, I’ve learned (that socialization process) to temper my remarks. However, I maintain the right of others to say and write things that may offend, and I can take humour from such content.
Case in point: the television series An Idiot Abroad, with its companion volume. Wherein Karl Pilkington, a professional accomplice of Ricky Gervais, travels with a camera crew and flavours every location/situation with his own particular take on things. Hardly polite; I wonder if he can even return to some of the countries he has visited, given the propensity of certain regimes to take umbrage at unveiled insult.
There’s a charm, albeit warped, to his reactions to the perceived cultural differences of other societies. He is the dupe of Ricky Gervais (another who refuses to twist his tongue three times before speaking). And he is funny. I will make a point to watch other episodes, now that I’ve been apprised of the possibility that he will show me the other side of the moon.
